Ever Remember
by Medie
Summary: There's a shooting in Blair's class and he must deal with the emotional fall out.


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or concepts of the Sentinel.  
  
Dedication: To the victims of the Montreal shooting so many years ago. We haven't forgotten. We  
won't forget. The names of the victims of the Montreal massacre are listed at the end of the   
story. Thank you.  
  
  
-------------  
Ever Remember...  
by M.  
----------  
  
Ever Remember...  
  
  
It was a typical day in Cascade. Raining as usual. People were going about their   
business, children were in their classes and day-cares, college students were in   
their lecture halls and business people were working steadily.   
  
Then everything went berserk.   
  
Jim was bent over a thick stack of paperwork at his desk when Simon walked out   
of his office.   
  
"All right people, I need your attention!" He called out with a grim look on his   
face.   
  
The detectives and personnel came to a stop and turned to look at him.   
  
"We've got a situation going down over at Rainier."   
  
Jim's eyes went wide and he was on his feet in a second. "Simon . . . " His face   
was filled with fear and everyone knew what he was asking.   
  
Simon deliberately avoided looking at Jim as he spoke his next words. "I'm told   
that about an hour ago a young man walked into a class over there and opened   
fire. There are fatalities." He looked over at Ellison then. "Jim . . . my   
office."   
  
With a heavy feeling of foreboding in his chest Jim followed his captain into   
the office and closed the door.   
  
"Sit down, Jim." Simon said gravely, walking around his desk. His expression had   
gone from grim to downright deathlike. "You're not going to want to hear this."   
  
"Simon . . . " Jim prompted. "What are you trying to tell me?"   
  
He hesitated then met the Sentinel's gaze. "It was Blair's class Jim."   
  
A dull roar filled Ellison's ears and he dropped into a chair. "Is he . . . "   
  
"I don't know. It's chaos over there right now." Simon responded quietly.   
  
"The shooter?" Jim's eyes were like lasers.   
  
"He turned the gun on himself."   
  
Ellison stood and nodded at Simon. "Thank you, Simon." He said as he started for   
the door.   
  
"Jim?" Simon stood as well.   
  
He paused and turned to look at the Captain.   
  
"Let us know the minute you find him." Simon's eyes gave away his true feelings   
of worry and dread.   
  
Jim nodded once then ducked out.   
  
The university was in chaos and it was all Jim could do to keep his senses under   
control.   
  
People were running, back and forth, sirens were blaring, voices were screaming   
and crying . . . absolute chaos.   
  
Looking around, Jim's senses sought to find his Guide's voice, heartbeat . . .   
just to find Blair.   
  
He kept his badge in his hand as the guards and patrolmen kept stopping him and   
asking for ID.   
  
As he moved forward, further onto the campus Jim's on heart rate kept getting   
faster.   
  
Where was Blair?   
  
Was he hurt? Or worse . . . was he dead?   
  
He didn't want to think about that. Instead he remembered the fact that Blair   
had an uncanny ability of ending up in the middle of a life-threatening   
situation and still manage to come out in one piece. A few cuts and bruises   
maybe, but one piece nonetheless.   
  
Jim sincerely hoped that it was true in this situation. He didn't know what he   
would do if it wasn't.   
  
"My daughter!" A woman cried out, jolting Ellison from his musings. "I have to   
find my daughter!"   
  
She was tall, with greying red hair and sharp green eyes. There were two   
officers speaking with her, trying to placate her but she wasn't having any of   
it.   
  
"Please leave me alone. I just want to find my daughter!" She was openly crying   
now. Her demeanor was quite dignified, and that made it all the more agonizing   
to watch.   
  
She stood there, tears streaming down her face, quietly pleading with the   
officers to let her search for her daughter.   
  
Jim stood and watched her for a few minutes. Unable to move, knowing almost   
exactly what she was feeling.   
  
Almost without realizing it, he began walking toward them.   
  
Introducing himself he gestured for the two officers to step back.   
  
"I'll accompany her around the campus." He informed them in a tone that left no   
argument.   
  
One officer opened his mouth to object but Jim's glare intimidated him into   
closing it.   
  
They nodded at him and walked away.   
  
"Thank you, Detective." The woman said softly, wiping away stray tears.   
  
"It's Jim and you're welcome."   
  
"Ok Jim. I'm Katherine Makavoy." She shouldered her purse strap. "Kate for   
short."   
  
"Well, Kate. What's your daughter's name?"   
  
"Sandi. Sandi Makavoy." Kate's green eyes began to fill with tears. "She . . .   
she's always wanted to be an anthropologist. An amazing girl. So outgoing,   
friendly . . . she'd help anyone who needed her . . . " She trailed off and   
dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I'm sorry, its just that . . . I, I can't   
lose her."   
  
Jim placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. "You don't have to   
apologize. I have a very good idea what you're going through." He hesitated,   
feeling that all too familiar wave of fear begin to rise again. "A friend of   
mine teaches the class, Blair Sandburg."   
  
Kate looked sympathetic. "Blair? You know him? He's such a darling. Sandi's had   
some medical problems over the past few months and Blair's been so understanding   
about her missing class. He gave her several extensions on her papers. He even   
brought books and her assignments to her at the hospital." She chuckled. "Not   
that she did them when he was there. They spent his visits playing Go Fish.   
Without a doubt he's the best teacher she's ever had." She ducked her head   
slightly.   
  
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Jim asked softly.   
  
"I have to." Kate said fiercely. "She's my little girl"   
  
Ellison nodded. "All right. If you're sure . . . then let's go." Placing a hand   
against the small of her back, Jim guided her through the throngs of people   
moving around the campus.   
  
There were several EMTs coming out of the hall, pushing stretchers. All of which   
were carrying victims.   
  
As each stretcher passed both Jim and Kate stopped, their hearts in their   
throats, to see who it was. And each time they were both relieved and scared to   
discover neither Blair nor Sandi was among them.   
  
Relieved because they were not among the injured but scared because that meant   
they could be among the dead.   
  
Jim's senses strained for any hint of Blair. A scent of his aftershave or his   
shampoo. The sound of his heartbeat or his voice. A glimpse of his head or his   
hair.   
  
Anything that would assure him that his Guide, his friend, was all right.   
The closer they got to the classroom the more chaotic things became. More people   
crying, grieving. It was like walking into hell.   
  
"Jim!" Joel Taggart walked over and nodded at Kate.   
  
"Joel." Jim nodded then hesitated. "How bad is it?"   
  
Joel pulled him away from Kate then lowered his voice. "Bad. Fourteen dead. All   
women."   
  
Jim felt a flush of relief, Blair was alive, followed immediately by a wave of   
guilt, but fourteen young women were dead. "How many injured?"   
  
"Ten. Again all women." Joel shook his head. "This guy was seriously sick Jim.   
He just walked in and opened fire."   
  
Jim frowned. "This guy was more than sick." His eyes were ice as he spoke. "If   
he wasn't dead, I'd probably kill him myself."   
  
"You and the rest of the city." Taggart said, his facial expression saying he   
would be first in line.   
  
Jim looked over at Kate. "I'd better go with her. Her daughter's in Blair's   
class."   
  
Joel nodded. "Ok. But prepare yourself, its not pretty."   
  
Jim sighed heavily then walked over to Kate. "Are you ready?"   
  
She nodded. "How many are . . . how many are dead?"   
  
"Fourteen. All women. There are ten injured. Again all women." Jim's tone was   
grave.   
  
"Sandi?" Kate looked scared.   
  
Jim's expression turned compassionate. "I don't know. But I do know it's really   
ugly in there."   
  
"Let's go."   
  
Jim placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her into the room.   
  
Immediately he turned down his sense of smell. The stench of blood was   
overpowering even for a person with ordinary senses.   
  
It took Jim less than a second to find Blair.   
  
The young man was sitting against the far wall with a young, red haired, woman   
lying in his arms and he was pressing his hands on a wound in her midsetion   
while EMTs treated a young woman near her.   
  
"Sandi!" Kate cried and raced over to them with Jim tight on her heels.   
  
"Mama?" Sandi's voice was weak and pain-filled.   
  
"Oh, sweetie," She soothed, running a hand over her daughter's hair. "You'll be   
fine. You'll be fine."   
  
"Mama, it hurts." She managed, before losing consciousness.   
  
Blair lifted agonized eyes to Jim's and the Sentinel was galvanized.   
  
He spun and grabbed the nearest EMT. "Get over here!" He said viciously.   
The EMT started to protest but Jim wouldn't hear it.   
  
"There is a young woman over there, bleeding from a very serious wound in her   
midsection. Now either you treat her or you get someone who can. Either way she   
gets help immediately got it?" Jim's voice was low and pure steel.   
  
The EMT swallowed nervously and nodded. "Yessir!" He squeaked.   
  
Jim released him and the young man hurried over to the door where he signaled   
another team in.   
  
The EMTs scurried over and ordered Blair to keep pressure on the wound while   
they assessed the overall damage.   
  
It took only a moment for them to complete the assessment before beginning   
on-site treatment.   
  
Once she was ready to transport, they eased her onto the stretcher.   
  
They wheeled her out the door but Kate lingered for a moment.   
  
"Thank you, Jim." She said softly. "Thank you for bringing me to my daughter."   
She stretched up slightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.   
  
"You're more than welcome." Jim said with a smile.   
  
Kate looked over at Blair. "And thank you, Blair, for staying with Sandi. It   
means more to me than you can know." She said, hugging him tightly.   
  
Blair smiled slightly and nodded. "You'd better get going."   
  
Kate nodded. "Of course. And again thank you both."   
  
They nodded and watched her leave.   
  
"You ok Chief?" Jim asked worriedly.   
  
Blair didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah, I'm fine."   
  
Jim's analyzing gave swept over his Guide. 'Uh huh,' he decided. 'Right.'   
  
After calling Simon to tell him Blair was in once piece Jim took the   
anthropologist home with plans to take him to the department psychiatrist the   
following day.   
  
Blair barely spoke a word on the way home. He just sat in the truck and stared   
at his hands.   
  
Jim tried to get him to talk but Blair would only respond in monosyllables.   
Upon arriving at the loft he sent him into the shower while he fixed some   
dinner.   
  
Once he heard the water start running Jim turned to the cupboard.   
  
"Hmm . . . comfort food . . . " He mused with a small smile. "A must according   
to Megan." The beautiful Australian had informed him of that a few days before   
while they'd been on a coffee break.   
  
Jim still wasn't sure how they'd come to be talking about food but it had   
happened. Amazing that it had come in handy only a few days later.   
  
"Chicken soup." He decided. "Chicken noodle soup." Yanking a tin out of the   
cupboard, he set to work.   
  
Blair emerged from the bathroom half an hour later. His hair was soaking wet and   
dripped onto the floor.   
  
Jim, with great self-control, refrained from commenting on it.   
  
"Water hot enough?" Jim asked, placing a bowl on the table.   
  
Blair nodded and shuffled over to the table. "Chicken soup?" He mumbled, his   
voice dull and lifeless.   
  
"Yep." Ellison nodded. "Eat up."   
  
He picked up a spoon and placed it in the bowl. He sat quietly for a moment,   
staring intently into the steaming liquid. "He didn't knock." He said finally.   
  
Jim looked at him sharply. "Chief?"   
  
"He just opened the door and started shooting." Blair's tone was low and   
monotonous. "We were in the middle of a discussion and the door opened. He   
walked in and just started shooting the girls." Blair shook his head. "I've seen   
some terrible things in my life but man, that was by far the worst."   
  
Jim looked back down into his soup. "About three months before I went to Peru I   
headed up a mission in a Central American country. We were supposed to destroy a   
drug lord's facility. To get there we had to pass though a village. When we got   
there all the men were dead. One of the women who worked at Rincon's complex . .   
. she lived in the village. And somehow she got her hands on a gun. She came   
home and killed all the men." Jim shook his head. "It was complete carnage,   
Chief. She just killed them all. Then shot herself. No one knew why she did it .   
. . she just did." Jim fell silent then, and swirled his spoon around the bowl.   
"Eat your soup."   
  
That night Blair had vicious nightmares.   
  
The first hints of the nightmares were groans, tossing and sighing which grew   
steadily worse until they finally culminated in screams of rage and fear.   
  
When Jim first heard Blair's unrest, he immediately got out of bed and went down   
in the living room where he stretched out on the couch nearest his Guide's room.   
So when Blair started screaming he didn't have far to go after he jumped to his   
feet.   
  
Bending over his friend he gripped Sandburg's shoulders. "Chief! BLAIR!" He   
called, shaking the younger man. "Wake up Sandburg!" His voice only a few   
decibels below a yell.   
  
Blair's eyes flew open and he looked around wildly, getting his bearings.   
"J...Jim?" He queried shakily.   
  
Jim smiled slightly. "Yeah Chief."   
  
"I was back in the university again." Blair's face was tear-streaked and his   
eyes, bloodshot. "He . . . He killed us all this time." He pressed shaking hands   
to his face.   
  
"You're safe Blair. You're all right." Jim assured him.   
  
"But they aren't." He snapped, distressed. "Jim, fourteen women are dead!   
They're dead man! And nothing will ever change that!" Tears flowed freely down   
his face as he spoke. "The next time I walk into that classroom, they aren't   
going to be there. They won't be there ever." He finished soberly.   
  
Jim swallowed hard, feeling tears stinging his eyes. It was killing him to see   
Blair in this kind of pain.   
  
It wasn't fair. Blair had been at school. Rainier was supposed to be safe   
ground. A place where Blair could retreat to when Major Crime got too rough for   
him to take.   
  
The violence of Jim's work wasn't supposed to invade Blair's.   
  
Jim glanced down at his watch. Four A.M. . "Get in the shower. I'll make   
breakfast then we'll go for a walk."   
  
Blair hesitated for a moment then nodded. "Sure."   
  
"It's like I'm walking through a nightmare." Blair said as he stared out at the   
water. "In quicksand up to my knees. Even taking a step is impossible. Its like   
something's dragging at my feet, holding me down." He tossed a pebble into the   
water and watched the ripples expand. "I've gone numb Jim. At least until I fall   
asleep or close my eyes. Then I see them. Falling, crying, bleeding. It replays   
in my mind like a movie. And I can't make it stop." He turned pleading eyes on   
Jim. "What do I do to make it stop?"   
  
Jim wrapped a supportive arm around his Guide's shoulders. "You already did   
something Chief. You took the first step. You talked to me."   
  
A week later a memorial service was held, ironically enough for Blair, in the   
rose garden at Rainier.   
  
The garden was packed full of students, faculty, EMTs and almost anyone who'd   
been there that day. All of them held candles.   
  
Blair and Jim arrived early and went straight to the front. Where Blair was   
greeted by a swarm of hugs, kisses and words of sympathy and encouragement.   
  
During the service there were a lot of tears and a lot of grief.   
  
It was almost overpowering, the feelings of pain, grief and anger that were   
running through the assembled group. It was as if everything else had been   
stripped away leaving a raw nerve.   
  
The dean stepped up to the mike and cleared her throat. "I'd like to thank you   
for all coming. I'm sure the girls would appreciate your presence." She looked   
around until she spotted Blair. "Blair it's especially good to see you here."   
She nodded at the young man who returned the gesture. "Perhaps you'd like to say   
a few words in dedication."   
  
It had been decided that, as a memorial to the dead women, a statue would be   
erected in the rose garden. A statue that would bear a plaque with the names of   
the victims.   
  
Blair nodded and walked up to the platform.   
  
"Umm, this is really hard for me but...a few days ago our world, quite   
literally, was blasted apart by one lunatic. One lunatic who stole from us   
fourteen of our friends." Blair paused to swipe at a tear. "Fourteen beautiful,   
vibrant and very special women. And to top it all off he didn't have the guts to   
face us. But we aren't going to let him win. We'll forget him, but we won't   
forget them." He was crying again but he smiled through those tears. "We'll   
remember the laughter and the tears." His voice was strong and vibrant and the   
reaction of the crowd was apparent.   
  
All were smiling through their own tears.   
  
"We'll remember." Blair promised, then stepped down.   
  
When he reached Jim's side, the Sentinel looked down at his Guide and asked him   
the same question he'd asked a week earlier. "You ok Chief?"   
  
Blair thought about that for a moment. "No. No, I'm not. And I won't be for a   
very long time." He looked up then. "But I will be. As long as I remember."   
  
Finis   
  
On December 16, 1989 at the Ecole Polytechnique in Montreal, Canada a man walked   
into an engineering class and brutally murdered fourteen young women because   
they were supposedly 'feminists'. Feminists because they dared to try and get an   
education.   
  
Geneviève Bergeron, 21   
  
Hélène Colgan, 23   
  
Nathalie Croteau, 23   
  
Barbara Daigneault, 22   
  
Anne-Marie Edward, 21   
  
Maud Haviernick, 29   
  
Barbara Maria Klueznick, 31   
  
Maryse Laganière, 25   
  
Maryse Leclair, 23   
  
Anne-Marie Lemay, 27   
  
Sonia Pelletier, 23   
  
Michèle Richard, 21   
  
Annie St-Arneault, 23   
  
Annie Turcotte, 21   
  
In remembering them, we win and he loses.   
  
  
  
  
Click on the candle to visit a Memorial Page for the victims of the Montreal   
Massacre   
Author Pages || Abelard || Christina A. || Marianne || e-mail Marianne ||   
Home 


End file.
